The Recluse
by TheOriginalYoungJusticeFanatic
Summary: Blogger moves to a city with a superhero and isn't sure what to expect. She came from a town on the West Coast where nothing happened that the cops couldn't handle and isn't sure how to go about knowing that there are super powered freaks wandering the city's streets. I'm sure she'll get over it; although who knows what that might take? [Flash/OC Brotp]
1. Chapter 1

It was normal to hear sirens going off in cities and towns so when I got off of the train, I didn't think much of it. Well that was until the screaming became apparent. The screaming and running away from the train tracks, that is. I wasn't one to run without a purpose and the sight of dozens of citizens running away from what appeared to be danger only sparked my interest. I walked against the rippling currents of humans to the source of the panic. I walked the entire length of a train and then some until I saw what everyone was scared of. I took my phone out of my pocket and took a picture.

There was a pale faced, blue eyed man with a bomb strapped to his chest and a look pleading in his eyes. "RUN! I'M SO SORRY; RUN!" He screamed. Well, that was terrifying. It was then that I noticed the countdown clock. I digress but the idea of a countdown clock is rather horrendous. It gives a person a time table revealing the exact moment of their demise and this one foretold of this man's demise and in extension of my own. We had less than 30 seconds. Well, shit.

I had a few options 1) run as fast as I can and get injured in an evitable blast, 2) pass out in fear, 3) try to help this man. I decided on the stupidest and most absurd of options and jumped down from the platform and approached him. "GET OUT OF HERE-" I held up my hand.

"I wouldn't be able to make it." I walked closer to the man and wrapped my arms around him and his vest which was made of materials that can only be described as 'the '. He was apologizing and crying; he held me tight. My heart was skipping beats. "Think about it this way, they're gonna be forced to remodel this shitty platform. Future generations will thank you for your noble service." There had to be some upside to this. He chuckled nervously. At that second it was worth it. If I was gonna die, the least I could do was make another person's last seconds less terrible.

But then I didn't die.

I blinked and felt a pressure on my waist and a gust of wind and saw a red blur. And suddenly I was no longer on train tracks and holding a terrified man. Suddenly I was on the edge of a group of reporters being pushed back by police. Suddenly I was watching as the man stumbled out of the train station with his clock beeping at zero. There were wires pulled and clipped and a man in a red and yellow suit slowly lead him to an ambulance. I wanted to push past the police to get a better look but I didn't have to. Suddenly the masked man was standing right in front of me and the reporters turned for a better look. He put a hand on my shoulder and looked down at me before saying,

"Why did you do that? You could've died." His voice was stern but concerned.

"I had less than 30 seconds. I wouldn't have made it; the least I could do was try to make that poor man feel better." His face was a blur that was making me nauseated but I could swear that I could see a green sparkle; perhaps those were his eyes? He was silent before saying.

"Wow, that was so thoughtful...you're totally the bomb." I stared at him blankly in response. "Too soon? Or do you just have a short fuse..I'm sorry I'm just having a blast over here."

"You suck." He laughed.

"Not you, you're pretty dynamite. I'm sorry, I'm sorry you just went through a terrible and traumatic experience. I'll leave now. I suggest you go talk to the police and get checked out by a medic." Before I could respond he was gone in a streak of red and gold. Lucky for him, the puns didn't really hurt me in the slightest and actually made me fit a little bit better about the entire situation. I did do as he asked, I went to the the police officers, I got checked out by a medic and they said I was probably fine. I met the bomb guy and he hugged me and I learned his name. And then I went back to the platform and retrieved my luggage from a sympathetic officer before heading to my new apartment.

I sat on my faux hard wood floor and typed up a new post for my blog.

 **MY FIRST DAY IN CENTRAL WAS A TOTAL BLAST; I SAW AN ADAM BOMB**


	2. Chapter 2

Having a blog isn't very rewarding. I have over 100 followers. 10% are bots. 89% ignore me. 1% actually interact with my posts. And that one percent goes by the handle "XxDefinitelyInLoveWithTheFlashxX", which is tragic in it's own way. Mostly due to the fact that after the "Adam Bomb" post, most of my posts were against The Flash. Everything he did seemed noble and kind and like the right thing to do, but even so he left the city in thousands of dollars of property damage (at the least) and was known to steal food when on the run. Okay... it wasn't theft but I'm pretty sure that you're not suppose to leave a store until after your items have been officially rung up. That's straight up nefarious.

I was pissed.

I had been in Central City for about a month and half and my blog traffic had gone from 100s of views a day to 2 a day. I hadn't have gotten a huge success since the story on the Flash and Heaven knew that I didn't want to write about that jackass anymore. I don't know why the idea of a super-powered freak who constantly broke laws in order to 'enforce' it was popular. Sure. he had an entire league of what seemed to be government backed super-powered freaks (with the exception of those like that edge lord in Gotham), but could a man with so much power really be trusted?

That was a rhetorical question and the answer was: Hell no.

But it seemed that if I wanted any more self righteous validation, I had to write about him instead of about the actual amazing heroes of Central such as: our doctors, sanitation workers, construction workers, and our actual law enforcing police department. There was only one person who seemed to appreciate them and they were the nearly anonymous XxDefinitelyInLoveWithTheFlashxX, who liked and commented on everything. Don't get me wrong, I loved them and would honestly fight a super powered freak for them, but sometimes I just wanted at least a hundred more people to be like them.

And to do that, I developed a plan that involved an old police radio, a cork board, a nerd for hire, and a bike that I had stolen from my last roommate.

To get any of the Flash's stories I would have to be at a location before he arrived due to his ability to make any confrontation end in mere moments. And to that I would have to be able to predict where the next terrible thing would occur but simply put that was nearly impossible. I was a 24 year old girl who worked as a Barista and blogged when I was bored. I had exactly 0 experience in reporting the revolved any kind of detective work and had little to work with.

And because of that my plan was a dud. I had given hundreds from my savings to a nerd so he could make an algorithm for me that would predict when crime would occur using data from previous years. But since the algorithm wasn't perfect due to variables like unreported crime and the fact that it didn't calculate which one the Flash would appear at, it didn't really help at all. That's what a get for trusting a college dropout.

So instead of posting an eye catching story about some horrible thing the Crap Streak had done to save Central City, I ended up writing a poorly written petty piece about how much I hated him while I sat with a box of wine in bed.

THE FLASH IS TRASH I know what you're thinking: "But Reve, the Flash is an amazing hero who has been protecting Central City, and occasionally the world, for a couple years now! What could be trashy about him besides his overly bright and admittedly tacky costume?" Well, readers do I have some points for you. 1) The Flash alone is responsible for thousands of dollars of property damage. He runs through glass windows, throws bombs in vacant but citizen-owned farms, and manages to make a dumb joke at the expense of nearly anyone involved in any bad situation. (I know that that last point digressed but you have to admit it's annoying.) With every case a cop has been on, they are never quite as messy. Cops and Federal agents are careful and strategic while the Flash is sporadic and disastrous.  
2)He outshines actual heroes in our city. Cops, doctors, and teachers all have one thing in common: The Flash takes their spot light. My old elementary school teacher is now running a program to get meals to poor children and their families. Last week, a doctor performed a life saving and ridiculously risking open heart surgery and saved the life of a man named Gardner Fox. And literally just yesterday the cops of the 8th precinct defused a tense hostage situation. But do any of you know that? Know because all you pay attention to is how the Captain Cold nearly put the Flash on Ice a month ago. This isn't new news. Captain Cold, or any of his copy cats, pop up at least once month. It's time that we give the real heroes of Central City be given the attention they deserve. 3)His costume is ugly. My eyes bleed when I look at him. This point isn't strong at all but I'm just drunk enough to include it anyway. Why did he have to be so saturated? Like any ig filt er maje himwetr looke so m,uch beTTER and u no what? Screw this irem just gonna piublish thiss 4)Y hv a secrte identity when cops donyt? Like theyre so much bravery than you red rocket!and i um oh sjit

I was sobbing into my laptop at that point. I felt pathetic. I was sitting on a sheet-less mattress in an apartment that I couldn't afford if I bought groceries, while I criticized a man who was probably better than me in every way. It was a kind of weird realization that I had as I sat in my underwear in my cramped and dark apartment with an article draft that I could never publish. Of course I didn't publish it. I would be an idiot to do so. It would be like throwing a line into an ocean of people waiting to troll me and I didn't want to do that.

But then again, that's the line of thought sober me had the next day after the night turned into a mind fog. Drunk-on-boxed-wine-sobbing me, thought publishing it was a great idea and hit "Publish" instead of "Save Draft" and let the tidal wave hit me full force. Drunk Me wanted and craved any kind of attention. Drunk Me was an annoying untrustworthy bitch.

The next day, I went to work with a throbbing headache a shaky stride. The next day, my next big story began to write itself.

 _dont mind me im just playing around with formatting. btw i work a nearly full time job and do a lot of community work so my uploads will continue to be sporadic and short hahaha...im sorry this is more for fun and stress relief than anything else_


End file.
